


Private Interest

by Oriole T (inamac)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: First Time, M/M, stream-of-consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1983-06-01
Updated: 1983-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/Oriole%20T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of <i>In The Public Interest</i> Doyle reflects on his relationship with Bodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Interest

Doyle wound down the window of the car and looked across the concrete expanse of the shopping precinct, as busy now as it had been a week ago when they'd first arrived. A lot had happened since then. The potentially corrupt root at the heart of the city's 'justice' had been torn out, but that change was not as obvious as the physical change in the architecture since Doyle had first come here. Only the faces of the hurrying shoppers remained the same and, in the end, it was the people who really mattered.

His partner caught the direction of his gaze, the huge window of the furniture store with its mock dining rooms and bedrooms open to the gaze of the passing shoppers. It was very different from the old flea pit of a dance hall which Doyle remembered. Bodie nudged him.

"They ought to put up a plaque."

"Huh?" Doyle half turned and his partner grinned wickedly.

"Here, for the first time, Raymond Doyle...."

*****

"I killed Suzy Carter!"

The accusation hung and echoed like surf in his ears, catapulting Doyle from sleep to wakefulness. The shock throbbed through him like a plucked wire.

Jesus!

He curled into a foetal ball, waiting for the hammer of his heartbeat to still, for the lurking menace in the supernaturally shadowed room to be dissipated by hard reason.

It's only a nightmare. Nothing to be scared of.

Recovery was so swift that an observer would never have been able to identify the moment of panic. The fear was replaced by embarrassment as he uncurled sweating fingers from the protective clutch at his groin. His eyes swept the room, this time with purpose. There was nothing out of place. No intruders. Only a nightmare was to blame for his wakefulness. If there had been anything else Bodie would have woken, but the bundle on the other bed had not stirred.

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief, settled his head back into the deep depression in the pillow, wriggled to re-discover the warm patches in the bed. and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back into sleep.

Falling...

Like Suzy Carter.

Down ... into blackness ... spinning...

The eyes snapped open. No. He didn't want to go back to that dream. Why should it be preying on his mind like this?

Defeated, he rolled onto his back, fitted his hands behind his head and stared up at the cracked ceiling, at the pale square of light cast by the phosphorescence of the white curtains. So like the one in that other Star Hotel.

Weird things, cracks. Like clouds. You could make pictures out of them.

Good cure for insomnia.

Take that one. Looks like a dog. Tail. Back legs. Nose. Pointed ears. An Alsatian. Like those brutes down at the kennels.

Ann Berry's Holiday Home For Dogs.

It wasn't working. Every thought led back to the Carter case. Why? Police corruption? He'd never liked that. If this investigation turned out to the another (and Cowley suspected that it would), well, Green wouldn't be the first he'd fingered. Or the last. But the Suzy Carter affair hadn't really been that sort of case. A bent copper with his hand in the till. In fact the only cop involved had been a woman.

'Bent'. Yeah, that was certainly the right word. He smiled at the atrocious pun, enjoying it in the half light. 

A memory moved in his mind. 

A casual comment.

"A policewoman with those tendencies..."

Well, at least it's never been illegal for women. Good old Queen Victoria. The old dear had probably been as puzzled by the idea as he was.

Those tendencies...

From the photos the Berry woman had probably been a good looking bird. Especially in the uniform. He could've quite fancied her. And her girlfriend for that matter. Pointless, of course, but...

Only one bed being slept in...

She would have been only a couple of years younger than he was now. Slim and pretty. 

Must've been damn efficient too, to have set up that kennels.

He shifted again and pulled his arms back under the bedcovers, surprised at how cold his hands were. He wrapped them around himself to warm them, still letting his mind drift, not really bothered about the contents of his thoughts. He'd soon be asleep now anyway.

Sleeping...

He was aware of the feel of his own skin under his hands, the texture of hair and the hardness of underlying muscle. Male.

I don't suppose they ever felt that.

The fantasy grew sharper. He knew the feel of a woman well enough, but that of two together; soft flesh, the warm dampness of arousal, the comfort of heavy breasts, were thoughts both alien and erotic. The warmth of the bedcovers over him was a tangible thing, yielding as another body. Sharing. That was what they'd had. His hands still moved languidly, cupping the curve of his shoulder, feeling the muscle and bone sliding under sensitive fingertips. 

Two people, male or female, what did it matter? After all, on _this_ case they'd set out to foster the impression that they were heavily into the Gay Lib thing themselves.

Bet Bodie didn't think of that.

He rolled onto his side, straining eyes open to see the bulked shape of his partner's sleeping body sprawled on the other bed. Alone, Bodie was a surprisingly untidy sleeper. The tangle of blankets and sheets revealed the long line of a naked leg and an arm flung over the dark head. 'Gay abandon' was the term which drifted into Doyle's mind. He smiled his gaze running the length of the exposed limb, moon pale in the diffused dawn light.

Must be cold, he thought, aware that the room was unheated. He complains enough about mornings as it is. Maybe...

He was aware of curiosity on the edge of conscious thought which prompted him to wriggle out of his own bed and reach out to his partner's. He knew, even as he lifted the heavy blanket to replace it over the sleeper, that the action was only an excuse. His fingers brushed cold skin. and it was  
no accident.

I wonder...

Now it was conscious and deliberate thought. The arousal born of the half-fantasies grew, feeding on the images.

Two women. Or two men. What did it matter? They'd shared a lot together, and it would be fascinating...

His hand smoothed the length of the exposed leg as he drew up the blanket to cover it. Bodie mumbled and shifted, burrowing his face into the crook of the outflung arm, but he did not wake.

Doyle looked down at the dark head. The cap of hair was feathered with silver highlights in the dim, pre-dawn light and it looked as soft as a child's. 

Tempting.

Why not?

Aware that he had already gone too far he leaned over and stroked fingertips over the shorn locks.

Bodie's eyes flew open. A hand locked on his wrist and he was thrown, with bone-wrenching force, to the floor. The two beds skidded apart on squeaking casters. Winded, Doyle caught his breath as his partner's weight landed on top of him amid a landslide of quilt and covers, and he managed  
to block the roundhouse punch which the other man loosed at his jaw, a blow whose force had already been checked as Bodie realised who he was fighting.

"Ray? What the blazes?"

Frustration, anger and sheer pig-headed bloody mindedness answered the question. Doyle's hand reached for his partner's crotch and the other closed around the back of his neck, pulling the startled man down into a fierce, hard kiss.

So this is what it feels like...

Bodie fought to release himself but succeeded only in wrapping the tangled bedclothes around their naked bodies. Doyle had half expected the resistance. already had useless excuses clamouring at the back of his mind. But they were not needed. The other man's sudden capitulation consigned the thoughts into oblivion. Bodie, finding himself half-smothered by the covers, relaxed into the embrace. He released his mouth from the barely attempted possession and his lips brushed Doyle's ear.

"Okay Cuddles, where's the camera?"

"Huh?" It took Doyle a few seconds to realise what his partner meant, and when he did it was with a sensation of mingled delight and terror.

If I tell him the room's been bugged - He braked the thought abruptly. His grip on the naked body tightened as he made his decision, the arousal that had begun as fantasy enhanced by the touch of flesh on flesh.

The pause had been almost too long and Bodie shifted again to meet Doyle's eyes.

"Ray?"

Decision time. Doyle swallowed. In another moment there would be no need for words of explanation: Bodie could not fail to realise exactly what was happening.

"There isn't... I just... I wanted..." His voice trailed off uncertainly because there were no words, no rational reasons for what he had done, only the need that would not go away. He waited for the violent rejection which he knew was coming. 

The moment stretched out, giving him the courage to meet his partner's eyes. Bodie looked as dazed as he felt.

"You want _me_? This case is goin' to your head, mate." He paused and grinned, feeling Doyle's hot urgency against his own skin. "An' other places." The levity was an attempt to defuse the situation, and Doyle recognised the fact, but it brought relief, not laughter.

He could've half killed me. Why hasn't he? Unless...

The thought ignited reaction. Fully erect now his body arched against the restraint, his fingers clutched with bruising force at the other man's arms, his mouth open in a gasp that invited possession.

"Please..."

The face above his blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blow, for withdrawal, for some reaction, anything which would stop the madness, restore normality. What he did not expect was the touch of the hand that encircled his engorged penis, the lips that claimed his, the tongue which invaded his mouth, the thunder of a too-close pulse-beat, the contact of flesh on naked flesh which accelerated the climax into satisfaction.

****

"Right, now you've got that out of your system suppose you tell me what the fuck all this is about?"

Dizzy, still breathless, unsure of what had happened – was still happening – Doyle opened his eyes and met the hard blue gaze. There was no trace of confusion in Bodie's expression now, only a determination which was frightening in its intensity. And a look of .... understanding? 

Doyle tried a sheepish grin.

"I was fantasizing. Maybe you're right. This job is getting to me."

Bodie shook his head. "No." It was a statement of fact and fear curled away from the touch of his hands on Doyle's shoulders. "No, it's much more than that. Don't try fooling yourself, Ray, fantasies don't go that far."

"Well, it's not going to go any further." Doyle struggled to rise against the restraining grip, all to conscious now that the situation was totally out of his control, aware only of the fact that he had to get as far away as possible from the touch of those hands, from the unfathomable gaze of the midnight eyes. He made it as far as the denuded bed, but Bodie moved with him, not relaxing his grip.

"Look, I'm sorry. Okay? Now will you let me go?"

"If you want me to."

It was said in a tone of sweet reasonableness but Doyle caught the obscure challenge. For a long moment the silence hung between them, echoing the words. 

_If you want me to...._

Doyle capitulated. This time it was not curiosity which fuelled the fire. It was self-knowledge, the need for comfort, and strength – and love.

****

You," Doyle lifted himself to hands and knees, straddling his partner's relaxed form. and looked down at the closed, long-lashed eyes, "are a hedonistic sybarite."

The eyes remained closed but one eyebrow lifted eloquently.

"This was _your_ idea."

"Maybe, but you didn't have to... I mean... " Doyle's voice trailed off. The eyes opened, held his.

"I should've let you carry on wondering what it would be like with another feller? I know you when you're brooding, mate. Besides, if I hadn't satisfied your curiosity you might've jumped the Cow. An' he'd blame me."

Doyle's emotions ran the gamut from the blind rage of betrayal to delighted laughter. Choking with it he rolled onto the bed beside his partner.

"I hope I've got better taste than that. God, this room'd better not be bugged. If the Cow's right about Green's cops it could be."

"If he's right about them it won't make a difference." Bodie wriggled his trapped arm from beneath his partner's body and glanced at his watch.

"Speaking of which, it's time we provided that suspicious little mind with some more food for  
thought. We're supposed to be picking up those leaflets at the station. C'mon. Up." He bounced out of the bed. Doyle looked up at him in sheer amazement.

"Now I know," he said, "how to get you up in the mornings. I'll have to sleep with you more often."

He was answered by the rattle of drawn curtains and sunlight crashed into the tiny room, its dazzle dispelling the glamour of the night. Bodie turned to look down at the naked man sprawled on the dishevelled bed. His grin was as innocent and dazzling as the sunlight.

"You should be so lucky. Darlin'."

****

"Here, for the first time..."

The voice brought Doyle back to the present with a jerk. All that had happened in that hotel room was over. As dead as his encounter with Annette behind the dance hall which no longer existed. An episode from the past. Deliberately he misunderstood his partner's reference, breaking into the monologue before Bodie could go any further.

"Hey! First time? What d'you mean, first time? I was nearly fifteen!"

Bodie broke off, looked at him with a grin that was almost a leer and then shook his head in negation, a tacit agreement to forget everything that had happened. Doyle set the car in motion, and his relief was audible.

"Let's get out of this lousy city."

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1983 for the Pros Hatstand circuit. Some of the dialogue and background is taken directly from the episode 'In The Public Interest' by Brian Clemens. 
> 
> I apologise for the overuse of ellipses.


End file.
